I laughed bitterly and lifted my shirt. Her eyes widened when she saw the patterns of bruises and scars covering my abdomen and torso. "They made sure the skin that showed was clean for the camera, but the rest was open season. And as for my reputation, well, I gave you credit for being too smart to believe their propaganda."
She grimaced at the dig. "Look, can we start over? We both came in with our own prejudices. Hard not to when we've both been burned, right?"
I nodded slowly. "Suppose so."
"As for why we need your help, well, it's obvious--or should be. You have inside knowledge of the Troika. You're the only one who's met the key players and knows their habits and perhaps their weaknesses. I know you want to run far from here, but where will you go? The Troika control the entire country. There's no place to hide, there's no normal life to return to. If you're going to survive, your only choice is to pick a side, dig in and fight. It's not a safe or a comfortable sort of life, but it's the best any of us can hope for right now. And maybe someday, if we keep fighting, we'll finally have a chance at safety and comfort again."
I sucked in a deep breath and released it slowly. Her words exposed my half-baked plan for the child's quest it had been. Children trusted wishes. Adults trusted facts. And the fact was I wouldn't last a week on my own. But I also might not survive three days if I stayed on to help.
"Look," she continued, "I understand the urge to lay down and just wait for death to take you." She unbuttoned her jacket. Peeking above the fabric of yellowed tank top she'd tattooed two red hearts. "But the way I look at it, if I'm going to die anyway, I might as well try to send as many of those bastards to hell as I can before I go. It won't bring them back." She placed a palm over the hearts. "But I'd rather die trying to destroy the Troika than to let death catch up to me because I couldn't run fast enough."
Her passion and anger reminded me of another strong female. One who took up arms against the Troika and inspired others to join her in the fight. One who would hold me in her lap while she made impassioned speeches to disheartened people about the importance of never losing hope. My eyes sought out the twin hearts on Dare's chest.
Red means life.
My mother had been talking about the red light of the Sisters of Crimson. But now I realized there were many meanings. Right then, it meant that the only path to freedom--to a real life-- lay in spilling the Troika's blood.
"Well?" Dare said, her voice full of challenge. "What's it going to be?"
I sucked in a deep breath and held it, hoping the oxygen could dispel some of the fear. It didn't work, but at least my heart slowed a bit. Like it or not, I'd started this the moment I decided to run. In my hubris, I assumed I'd be able to outsmart my captors and manipulate the rebels to help me without having to get involved in the war. But once I'd seen the world outside the Troika's walls and saw the truth without Castor's propaganda-colored glasses, I knew I'd been a fool. The Chatelaine had been right--no one survived in this world without choosing a side. And since I could never choose the Troika, the process of elimination left the rebels.
I blew out the kind of deep breath one lets out just before they dive off a cliff. "Okay. I'm in."
Mom would have been so proud.
#
Two hours later, we all stood over Saga's map again. Icarus and Saga seemed to accept my change of heart like they'd expected it all along. Only Icarus seemed confused about the newfound respect between Dare and me. I could see in the looks he kept shooting at her that he wanted to know how she’d changed my mind. The blank stares she shot at him and the secret smile she tossed my way told me she'd keep my secrets safe. Whether out of feminine honor or just because she was mad at Icarus for electing her my executioner if I'd refused to help, I didn't know.
After the initial awkwardness when Dare and I had emerged, we got down to business. Rabbit sat nearby reading a book while the adults debated the plan.
"First we need to know who is most likely to be there," Dare said.
"Astyanax will be there," Saga said. "As head of the army and the Prime's personal guard, they'll want him there to oversee security."
The scent of brimstone and blood filled my nostrils as the scent memory of my last meeting with General Astyanax bullied its way in my brain. I shut down the memory of those weeks in the infirmary and focused on the mission.
"You can bet Castor will be there, too."
"But he's head of propaganda," Dare said. "Wouldn't they want to keep this quiet?"
I nodded. "Yes, but The Factory was his idea. He won't miss his moment of glory for anything."
"They need to know it was us," Icarus said suddenly. "Let Astyanax and Castor know that the rebels mean business."
I shook my head. "Absolutely not. You have to make it look like a mistake so they'll take it as a bad omen."
"Explain," Saga demanded.
"Castor is incredibly superstitious. You don't have to destroy the Factory. You just have to stage a convincing enough accident that Castor believes it's a bad sign. At a minimum, it will delay the project while he tries to figure out how to reverse the bad energy."
Icarus frowned. "There's no way we'll be able to get close enough to stage an accident with the General and his forces there."
Dare forced a derisive snort. "And if we get caught, the Troika will scramble to kill the camp prisoners faster in retaliation."
"Astyanax isn't as much of a threat as Castor," Saga said, almost to himself. "She's right, if we scare Castor we'll gain the advantage."
Dare and Icarus frowned at his dismissal of their concerns. "How can you say that, old man? Astyanax is the fiercest vampire alive."